Creep
by CeruleanSkies
Summary: Draco reminisces post-war. Will be HG/DM eventually. (rated for language, probably ok for PG13)
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer and Such:

I do not own anything. Not the characters, not the places, not the names, and NO MONEY!!! I'm a poor student and this just passes time that I could be using to study. 

This is also my first HP story. Not only is it that, it will (eventually, I think) be HG/DM or at least have that element to it. I have also (GASP!) not read any of the HP books. I don't have the time. I did kind of like the movies and found the world to be an interesting one to write in. I'm more than likely to bring in D&D elements, as that is my bread and butter. Just to warn you all. 

Oh, and the song bits that I used is a song called Creep by Radiohead. I don't own that either and am making NO PROFIT off of this, I SWEAR.

It had been a summer full of finality. Tiny things were ending, marking the eternal flow of time towards adulthood. It was the last summer vacation he would ever have. This was to be his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, never again would he enjoy the heady rush of summer break, no school and complete freedom. The adult world had tiny vacations, portioned out in precious two-week increments. He shook his head; he was getting maudlin at the ripe old age of seventeen.  It was no surprise, really. The summer had been full of endings much more grand than the end of his final summer. He had to be old now, the adult. He was, after all, the sole survivor of what had once been the grand pureblooded Malfoy family. He was rich, powerful, lost and confused in a world he had been sheltered from, for the most part.

The battle, he had come to understand, was an epic one with much death and pain on both sides. His father, the great and powerful and evil Lucius Malfoy had died in the first days of the war, as the Dark Lord publicly rose to claim the throne of the Wizarding world. Funny enough, Lucius had not even died in pursuit of the power he held dearer to his heart than anything. It was his wife, Narcissa whom had taken the life of one of the most powerful Death Eaters in the Wizarding World. Narcissa, whom, Draco reflected, had ultimately saved his life, sacrificing most of her sanity in the process. Draco stared at his arm, knowing that underneath the fine black robe he war, his arm was clean and free of any mark. He had realized years ago that although he was a true Slytherin with powerful ambitions, he did not want to prostrate himself to a greater power to gain a sliver of that ambition. Draco didn't even want world domination; it was a useless pursuit as far as he was concerned. How could one enjoy their power when fools such as the Boy-Who-Lived, idiot Harry Potter were always willing to jump up and fight for their cause of good? Better to have power over ones own life and enjoy it privately. No one would bother you then. With a shudder, Draco remembered his father dragging him down the cold marble hallways of Malfoy Manor, intent upon sacrificing his only child to the Dark Lord, thus improving greatly the chance of the Dark Side winning the war. In a flash of green, his father was no more and his mother was a hysterical puddle of Witch, sobbing uncontrollably about her love for her son. She had never truly recovered. Draco hoped the House Elves would take good care of his mother, as he had to finish his schooling if he had any hope of properly controlling the Malfoy fortune in the years to come. Draco was shaken from his reverie when a shadow cast over him. He looked up from his seat into the vacant eyes of a waitress.

"'Nother coffee, love?" She robotically asked, her mind not on her job.

"Please." Draco almost laughed at himself, as the waitress strolled away. Pure blood Draco Malfoy, being kind to Muggles and sitting in a Muggle café a few blocks from Diagon Alley. His father was, hopefully, rolling in his grave. So too were many other Death Eaters, the Dark Lord himself and, regrettably, many children. Many had been in Slytherin house with him. Many had been his friends or associates. 

He was surprised that he didn't feel like he had betrayed any of them. He had grown up with them; he had gone to school with them and had been the lord of their tiny childish world. This summer, when he had suitably recovered from Lucius' attack and had safely tucked his mother away, he had calmly betrayed them all. Letters to the Ministry of Magic and Headmaster Dumbledore had kept the Good Guys informed as to Death Eater whereabouts and plans. Having just come into the public eye, the Death Eaters were still organized so as if one were caught, he could not betray the rest. Many minor Death Eaters relied on a lynch pin of the group to keep them in contact with the upper echelons. This pyramid continued up to Lucius himself, who was only a step below the Dark Lord. No one knew that Lucius had died. Draco had taken great pains to hide his father's death for as long as he could and in doing so was privy to many Death Eater correspondences. Voldemort preferred to let his cronies do most of the work. This would, he rightly felt, gain him more power at little personal expense. It would also keep him relatively free of such meddlers as Potter and his coterie of friends, hopefully allowing him to nearly win the war before he was once more to face The Boy Who Lived. 

Draco laughed quietly and sipped at his fresh cup of coffee. Between Lucius' unfortunate demise and the spying efforts of Professor Serverus Snape, two Slytherins had, essentially, won the war. Who would ever have thought such a thing?

But now he was to return to Hogwarts, a drastically reduced house that would most likely not even have a team this year and a student body that still didn't really trust him. He sighed, not knowing what else to do, and directed his attention to the other patrons of the café. He should be in Diagon Alley, buying his school supplies and preparing for his seventh year of school. There was only one week left of summer vacation. However, the war had only come to an official end a week ago. Voldemort had finally died at the hands of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermoine Granger. Voldemort's location secretly leaked to them by Draco himself, he had been owling Hermoine since the early days of the war. Draco, as much as he hated to admit it, had known the importance Harry Potter would play in the war and knew as well that the adults would strive to keep their young charges ignorant of what was really going on. Giving Hermoine information was the only safe way to reach Potter, as the ever-trusting Scarface would never believe any letters baring the name Draco Malfoy. Hermoine could be more open minded, and luckily was. It more than likely saved their lives.

The sound of familiar laughter broke his reverie once again. He sipped his coffee and allowed his eyes to float over the patrons of the tiny café. Someone he knew was here, and that might not be a good thing. There were still small groups of Death Eaters at large and the fact of Lucius' death had finally become public knowledge three weeks ago. He was no longer in the confidence of the remaining Death Eaters and did not know where in the world they could be. Finally, his eyes lit upon a familiar head of flaming red hair. Yes, the Golden Trio were in this very café, Weasley looking much like a fish out of water trying to enjoy himself with Granger and Potter. Draco roled his eyes at the happy picture they presented. He had saved their lives, he had handed the battle to them and only Hermione knew. She had a very good point when she let Draco know that she was keeping the source of her information secret. The boys would never believe her if they knew Draco was mailing her. She had a hard enough time coming to grips with it as it was and there was a battle to be fought and won. No time could be given to issues of trust anymore. And so Harry Potter was hailed as a hero and the Slytherin spies, Draco and Serverus were awarded, in a small secret ceremony, medals of honour from Headmaster Dumbledore. The truth would come out soon enough, Draco knew, but for now he contented himself with secretly watching his co-conspirator and her friends. He listened to the Muggle music being piped in through tiny circles in the ceiling. 

When you were here before,   
couldn't look you in the eye.   
You're just like an angel;  
your skin makes me cry.   
You float like a feather;  
in a beautiful world   
I wish I was special,   
you're so fucking special.  
  
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here…. 


	2. Chapter 2

Creep – Chapter 2

            It was refreshing to laugh; we had been so serious, so business like this summer. Harry, Ron and I had been in the business of saving the world. We had no time for fun or laughter. It's a sad thought, really. We're only seventeen and no time for laughter. We have all the time in the world now. Horrible as it was, this summer was a success. We came out alive and Voldemort is no more. The remaining Death Eaters are leaderless and on the run from the Ministry of Magic. For the first time in six years, we're safe. I give myself a moment to simply enjoy this newfound sense of safety. My attention seizes on the faint music in the café. It's an older song, but I remember it.

I don't care if it hurts,   
I want to have control.   
I want a perfect body,  
I want a perfect soul.  
I want you to notice,  
when I'm not around.   
You're so fucking special,  
I wish I was special.  
  
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here

            Ron looks so out of place in this Muggle café. Harry and I cannot help but laugh at him. He tries to look so nonchalant, but his eyes pop every now and then. We don't need to know what he is looking at; it's his expression that's hilarious. Our laughter is infectious and Ron always laughs with us. I'm not even sure if Ron is really so funny. We just need to laugh. I think that's what we fought for, although it will never be recorded that way. It's too poetic and illogical. Who would really fight for laughter?

            A shock of white in the corner of my eye answers that question. I pretend not to notice him; Harry and Ron would only make trouble. They don't know the truth yet and it isn't safe for him to be in a public scene. It's strange that he's sitting in a Muggle café, and then I realize that it's probably one of the safer places for him. Who would ever expect to find Draco Malfoy frequenting Muggle establishments?  

            "I still don't understand, 'Moine," Ron interrupts my wandering thoughts. "Why did Dumbledore owl you all that inside information? Harry and I owled him once and all we got was a howler from McGonagall telling us to keep our noses out."

            Oh, shit. What in the world could I say this time? Ron and Harry had believed me when I told them my information was from Dumbledore and never questioned why he would encourage us to seek out Voldemort and the Death Eaters on our own. 

            "It's because I'm Head Girl this year." I know I'm smart, I know I can think fast, but I really don't know where that came from. It sounds plausible, though. Hopefully, they won't be mad at me when they find out the truth. Draco is a hero for what he's done, but he also deserves to live. Giving proof to the remaining Death Eaters that they boy many of them still think of as Voldemort's heir betrayed them… it might kill him. "It looked appropriate for him to be owling me and he always hid the information in talk about school duties and activities. If the Headmaster of Hogwarts were in frequent correspondence with The Boy Who Lived just as Voldemort was rising, the Death Eaters would know for sure that we were involved. In fact, -"

            "She's right, Ron." Harry cut me off. I suppose I was gearing up for a full-blown lecture. As awful as it is to lie to your best friends, at least they believe me. "Hermoine is Head Girl this year. This means that she gets all sorts of extra privileges…" 

            "Don't you even think it, Harry Potter!" His sly smile made me laugh. "I will not show you two any favouritism, and I will take House Points if I have too."

            "Awe, but 'Moine!" 

*****

            I could hear Weasley whining about Hermoine being Head Girl. I touched the Hogwarts Letter on my pocket, to reassure myself for the millionth time that it was still there. If she had problems taking points from Gryffindor, I certainly did not.  I wondered, again for the millionth time, why I was Head Boy this year. My grades were some of the highest in the school, but it wasn't just grades that made a Head Boy. I know I do not possess any of those foolish Gryffindor traits Dumbledore and the rest of the Hogwarts staff seem so overly fond of. Perhaps this is Dumbledores' way of acknowledging what I had done this summer. Professor Snape and I had already received our congratulation and our medals, but still no one knew. We were secretly honoured as the world cheered the mighty Harry Potter. I know it was meant to keep me safe, is still meant to keep me safe, but it's hard not to be bitter. I was in just as much danger as he was. I worked just as hard as he ever did.  Their laughter interrupted my thoughts again. Stomaching their happiness is more than I can bear right now. They have every right to be happy and to laugh. I have every right to as well, I just can't. Who would I laugh with? My dead friends? My empty house? If there was a Slytherin House this year, I would be highly surprised. I threw my muggle money on the table and glanced once more at the Golden Trio. Harry and Ron had their heads together and judging from the motions they made with their hands, they were discussing Quidditch. Hermione must have felt my gaze. She turned and looked at me, a ghost of a smile on her face. She mouthed something and I couldn't make it out. My frown caused her to glance in alarm at her friends. They were in deep conversation and would not come up for air for some time yet. She smiled brightly at me, and this time I understood what she mouthed. _Owl me_. I nodded and left for Diagon Alley.

            My purchases for the year made and on their way to Malfoy Manor, I returned home. Thoughts of Hermione had been plaguing me all afternoon. We hadn't communicated since the death of Voldemort. I received one last message from her. The parchment was splotched with blood I can only assume was hers. Odd that she would write to me while still injured, but I knew she would not be able to Owl me unless the wounds were superficial. Two tiny words were the last I ever heard from her. _We won_. I didn't reply, there was no point. We were never meant to be friends, barely even associates at the best of times. It's true that war makes strange bedfellows. Now if only I could remember who said that. I was still deep in thought as to why Hermione wanted me to contact her. What could she possibly want from me when she had the two heroes at her beck and call? A tugging on my robe broke my thoughts. I nearly smacked myself, as Father couldn't possibly do it for me. Malfoys do not loose themselves in thought publicly and anywhere that was not the most secret of chambers was public.

            "Sirs," A House Elf. This one was covered in a garish purple pillowcase. "Messages came for you, Sirs."

            I smiled down at the unfortunate creature. They were all I had, after all and I was trying to turn a new leaf. Be as un-Malfoy as I could, if only to spite the memory of Father. Besides, I depended on the House Elves to take care of Mother. Now if only I could remember this Elf's name.

            "Messages?" I gave up the search for its name and instead focused on the lack of parchment in the creature's tiny hands. "Where have you put them?" 

            "Your room, Sirs." The Elf quaked with joy that I had not hit him. They were still not used to the quasi-freedom I had granted them earlier this summer. I required their undying loyalty; otherwise Mother would end up in St. Mungo's. That was no place for anyone, much less my Mother. "Messages on your desk."

            "Thank you." My Father's voice thundered at me in the back of my mind. _Malfoys are not kind to servants. House Elves are dirty scum and deserve no less than to be our slaves._ I gave that voice the finger and crouched down beside the Elf. I looked him in the eye. "How has Mother been?"

            "Oh, Sirs!" The little thing had a positive fit. I finally understood the Muggle term _happy dance_. "Lady has been so good. Today, Lady has eaten all her breakfast and lunch. And we's painted today, Sirs. Lady and us made pretty pictures."

            I was overjoyed. Mother had wasted away for a month before I could convince her to keep any food down. Not only was she eating, but also she was keeping herself active. She might come out of this yet. 

            "I will see her now." I stood and strode towards the staircase that would take me to the Master Suite.

            "Oh no!" The elf howled and jumped in front of me. I was sorely tempted to kick it, as I would have in year's prior. _Oh no?_ That little parasite _dares_ to tell me what I can and cannot do? "Sirs, you mustn't. Lady is sleeping. Nap time."

            Oh. I felt foolish, but luckily had not acted on my first instinct to see how far an Elf can fly. I hid my chagrin and veered my course slightly.

            "Of course. Let me know when she is awake and prepared to receive me." That sounded Lordly enough. I could change, but not that much. I was still Lord and Master of this house and that was how it would remain. No one makes a fool of a Malfoy. I strode up the stairs and disappeared into my personal apartments without waiting for the Elf to respond. I shut my chamber door and shuddered. Garish purple thing, it would have been a pleasure to see it fly through the air and splat face first into the heavy granite walls. Being good is much harder than the Golden Trio make it out to be. 

*****

Authors Notes:             Ok, thank you to the people who reviewed me. I'm really thankful. It's good to know that I'm writing people in character, seeing as how I've never read the books and have only a slight idea of what their character really is.

I always hated song fics. Mostly because the ones I come across are tiny things where more than half the words are song lyrics. It's silly revolving a story entirely around a song. However, music rules my life and I'm sure it rules many lives. It's rather integral to society, I think. So I toss in a song every now and again when I think it's relevant. Thus far, I've only used one song (which made the rating go up. Bad language, bad!) which is, as I stated earlier, Creep by Radiohead. I'm not making any money off of its use, but let's promote it anyway. It's from a 1993 album called Pablo Honey. Give it a listen if you can, wicked album. 

OK, review or flame as you please. Thank you all for reading my silly tale. 


	3. Chapter 3

Creep – Chapter 3

            Draco,

            I know we haven't communicated in a few weeks. In fact, I believe this is the first real and true letter I've ever sent to you. Well, there are no need for codes and ciphers now. We're free. Isn't it wonderful reading that word? Free free free free. I'm sorry; I think I'm still giddy. I'll try not to annoy you with the rest of this letter.

            I know I said that you should Owl me. I wrote last, after all and it is your turn to reply. But what would you reply too? So I've decided to write to you instead and break the ice. I'm sure you haven't thought of writing to me, though you said you would. We're not friends, right? You told me that early on. This was simply a way to survive. Well, we've survived and I've decided that we should be friends after all. We're the Heads this year, Draco. This practically requires us to be friends. Not only will we be working together, we'll be living together. I don't know if Hogwarts has let you know yet, but Slytherin House has been decimated enough that those who are left can have their own private rooms instead of three too a room as usual. I think they didn't want you to sit in the emptiness all year. So you and I, as Head Boy and Head Girl, will have our own dormitory. It will be smaller than you are used to, I think. But it will be home. Hopefully you'll think so too.

            I know you can't be happy right now. You looked so lost earlier today. Were Harry and Ron not there, I would have sat with you. You would have stood up to leave, I'm sure. We've never been able to get along. I'm trying to change that. I know they don't know it yet, but you're a hero. If no one else in the world ever acknowledges you, there will always be a hero's shrine in my heart with your name emblazoned on it in letters just as big as the one beside it with Harry's name.

            What do you say, Draco? Truce? 

            Regards,

            Hermoine

*****

            I didn't know what to do. There is a new duality to my nature that I am finding disconcerting. 

Should I tear the letter into tiny pieces and give in to the rage it evoked within me, or should I fold it gently and keep it somewhere safe? 

On the one hand, I was enraged that she would dare pity me. I looked _lost_?? Can the silly mudblood not recognize contemplation when she sees it? Malfoy's do not get lost. How dare she even presume to know what I was thinking…

            Shut up, Father.

            She risked her life for this freedom she's so happy about. So many muggle-born witches and wizards went into hiding when Voldemort rose. Hermoine not only stayed active in the wizarding world, but she was in covert contact with me. Sometimes, when I took the time to really think where I was sending my missives, I would shudder. She risked limb, if not life, going to these places to retrieve my information. It was her idea, my sending the letters into the dirtiest, most run-down areas she could find. We were both less likely to be caught that way, but sometimes I worried for her safety. She couldn't even take her wonder boys with her when she went to retrieve my owls. They never would have trusted me without her. We would all, most likely, be dead. I owed her a debt greater than I could ever repay. If she wanted my friendship as that payment, I was getting off lucky.

            Yet, she compares me with that snot-nosed holier-than-thou Scarface. Joy, I'm her hero. What should that mean to me anyway? I'm no one's hero, especially not second fiddle hero to that …that… walking set of loaded die. He's lucky, that's it. Pure fucking luck is all that stood between the world as we know it and complete decimation. There should be laws against such idiocy. I have a hard enough time believing that he succeeded, much less remembering my dependence that he would succeed. For a brief time, I was possessed of the confidence the world seems to have in that shaggy haired twit. I suppose that when it gets right down to it, I was grasping at straws to save myself. Surprisingly, it worked. However, there is absolutely no need for her to rub salt in my wounds! Stupid mudblood bitch. No, that's not right anymore. If I can't say those things in public, I shouldn't say them in private. I should get into the habit now. Stupid _friend_. 

*****

            I haven't the foggiest clue what possessed me to write Draco. He would only, no doubt, tear up my letter and spend the next year treating me like scum. I'm not going to expect a reply, I'm not going to expect a truce and I'm certainly not going to expect to live in relative peace with him this year. Freedom, sure. Freedom from the ever-looming threat I'd been labouring under for six years now. Freedom from Draco Malfoy? What a fool I was to think that would ever happen.

            I just couldn't help myself. He suffered just as much, no more, than we did. We came out ok. Still, the only major losses in this battle were Harry's parents. At least he has the memory of their love to sustain him. I don't think Draco…. No, I don't think _Malfoy_ has ever been loved.

            He's tragic, that's why I wrote him. I've been reading too many romance novels. Too much Muggle Harlequin nonsense has seeped into my head. I've been hopelessly set up to fall for the tragic ones, the bad ones, and the redeemable ones. Well, he's redeemed himself; he's not really that bad anymore. One out of three, perhaps I can avoid what I'm beginning to think might be inevitable. Perhaps I can still see him as the annoying prat he's always been and stop worrying about him. 

            Of course, I might still get a reply. We might have a truce and this year might be the best year ever. And monkeys might fly out of my butt. 

            Oh, yeah! Wayne's World! I haven't seen that in ages. I think it's about time I enjoy my summer and behave like a true student. I'm going to veg out in  front of the television all afternoon. No thinking, no worrying, no Draco Malfoy. 

            Mike Myers, here I come.

*****

Authors Notes:             Again, I'm ever thankful for all the nice reviews I've received! 

I would like to apologize if anyone is getting out of character. I would like to re-iterate that I've never read the books and am basing this on my movie-watching experience alone. As well, I don't think I can get Draco and Hermoine together without making one or both a little OOC, don't you think? 

Oh, and I don't have a beta. No editor for me. You've all been so nice in your reviews I'm not sure if I need it. But if I do, please let me know. And if you would like the post, please oh please let me know. You will be my own personal jesus. Hmm… Depeche Mode. Methinks its time to pay a visit to good old CD player. Or maybe sleep. Yes. Sleep. G'night everybody. 


	4. Chapter 4

Creep – Chapter 4

            I found a rather interesting solution to my letter problem. Father had a few Reaction Boxes on his desk. Boxes designed to explode if someone other than him touched them. Luckily, he had willed everything in the house to me years ago and the will, being magic, switched spells designed just for him to be designed just for me. I placed Hermione's letter in the only Reaction Box I had taken to my room. Now I had kept it and burnt it, as if anyone else tried to open that box they would get a nasty shock.

            I took my time replying to her letter. I had more important things to do, really, than reply to such a silly missive.

            I ate dinner, alone as Mother was now in the bath. I didn't mind so much this time as I knew she had eaten earlier in the day. Eating alone in the great hall of Malfoy Manor was strange, even after all those months straight of doing just that. I thought longingly of the great tables in Hogwarts, full of students, full of conversation. I shook my head, regaining my sanity. Hogwarts would never be like that again, not for an endangered Slytherin. Would they destroy the house and divide us up amongst the rest? The thought frightened me. The four houses had always been there, for centuries. But now, could Slytherin survive the change? I truly hoped Dumbledore allowed us to suffer in the tiny numbers we had left. It would be worse to be forced into another house. Eating alone won't be so bad, though. I can always eat in my new Common Room. The plush quarters of the Heads would be a welcome change. The Manor was always too cold and the warm cheer of Hogwarts ached in my heart. Perhaps I could even convince Hermione to eat a few meals with me. At least I would then have intelligent conversation.

            Dinner finished, I rose and headed for Mother's room. By now, she _must_ be prepared to see me. Those damn elves had kept me away for the better part of the day. I would hear no excuses now. I reached Mother's door with no incident, but trying to open it proved a futile effort. After jiggling the handle a few times, I heard a tiny sigh and looked down to see, once again, that purple monstrosity of an elf at my feet.

            "Sirs, one moment please, sirs," The elf panted, why in the world would the dumb thing be out of breath? "Lady is not dressed yet, sirs. Please wait one moment."

            I had enough. Wait for her nap, wait for her bath, wait for her to dress. Certainly she had been traumatized and was still suffering for it but she would not make her own son wait any longer! I turned the full force of my malice upon the elf.

            "I will open this door in ten seconds. Mother will be dressed, or in bed. She will receive me and you will keep me from her no longer!"

            A squeal and a popping sound. The elf was gone. I felt better, but I still would have preferred to test out my football skills on the disgusting thing. My count swiftly completed, I reached for the handle one more time before I blew the door from its hinges. It opened easily and I had to force myself to smother a self-satisfied grin. In her state, Mother often confused me with Father. I know I look like him, but even after taking efforts to look different, even after cutting my hair and leaving it spiked and messy instead of long and slicked back she would still call me Lucius in her worst moments.

            "Draco, darling?" She was lying in bed, parchments scattered across the sheets.

            "Mother, how do you feel?"

            "Simply wonderful, Draco. Look at what I have done today." Today she is a child. Sadly, it's one of her better moods. She picks up a few of the pictures she has drawn and waves them at me. I sit beside her on the bed and gather all the papers into a big pile. The brightest smile I have ever seen is on her face. Her eyes are glassy and vacant, but I try not to notice. Mother is smiling and that's what counts.

            "See, love, what I did? We painted all day today. It was beautiful outside and see, here? I painted the sky and the sun…" She rambled on about each picture. I encouraged her and congratulated her and spent an hour pouring over her great works of art. Then the strength left her and she was tired once more. I kissed her on the forehead and tucked her into bed. She was already half asleep but what she murmured into the pillow shocked me to the core.

            "I love you son, and so will she."

*****

            I refused to think about what she meant by that. 

Entering my room, I snapped a quick command at the enchanted muggle music player I had acquired a few months previous. Sometimes, muggles had it better than we did. Think of the luxury, music at the drop of a hat. All the music in the world on radio waves and shiny round circles. Brilliant. 

            A slow song issued forth from the speakers. I listened to it for a moment while composing my reply to Hermione in my head.

I've watched you change   
Into a fly  
I looked away  
You were on fire  
I watched a change  
In you  
It's like you never  
Had wings  
Now you feel  
So Alive  
I've watched you change  
I took you home  
Set you on the glass  
I pulled off your wings  
Then I laughed  
I watched a change  
In you  
It's like you never  
Had wings  
Now you feel  
So alive

H,

            I agree to the truce, but only with you. I refuse to make friends with Potter and Weasley. I do promise, however, to not attack them. I will defend myself if necessary and that is it. Unless, of course, they present me with the perfect opportunity; then you can't blame me for taking it. 

            I know things are to be kept secret, but when will you tell the Wonder Boys the truth? Please do so soon, I do not want to spend the year being pitied by you. In fact, I _will not_. So do us all a favour and keep your sad doe-eyed thoughts to yourself. 

            I will see you on the train.

            Your friend,

            D

*****

Authors Notes:             It's been four days since I first posted this story (and four chapters, I'm on a roll!) and I have 10 reviews. It would make me happy that ONE person likes this story and I have 10! You all know what that means. Keep reviewing and make me happy. ;)

                                    The song is Deftones – Change (In The House Of Flies). A wonderful piece of musical angst.

                                    Once again, I would like to reiterate my disclaimer. I am making no profit from this. None of the characters or songs are mine. I'm a university student (i.e. eternally broke), so if you would like to sue me please remember that you can't get water from a stone.  


	5. Chapter 5

Creep – Chapter 5

            It had been two days since I received Draco's reply to my letter. The reply contained better news that I had hoped for, so I did not bother to reply and possibly damage this fragile truce he had agreed to. Tomorrow I would be going back to Hogwarts, and I couldn't wait. The major threat was gone, yes, but that didn't make school any easier. Muggle television was certainly right when it came to school. A horrible place of rumours, self-consciousness and finding trying to look good for the prom despite being the ugly duckling. This thought made me touch my hair; my Mother had decided that I should not only be the best student at Hogwarts, but that I should be the best looking. Despite her heavy investments in the past week in a trip to a salon and expensive hair product, I still didn't see much change in my curly bush of hair. It would, no doubt once again, be one of the sources of my aggravation this year. 

This quasi-truce with Malfoy could only make things better. I was overjoyed, although incredibly aggravated to read his letter. It will be good to have a truce with the boy I have to live with, however why did he have to be such a prat about everything else? And what in the world did he mean by pity? And he _knows _I can't tell Harry or Ron yet so why in the world would he encourage me? And-

            Crookshanks jumped into my lap, ending my train of thought and forcing laughter out of me. 

            "Sweet kitty" I murmured and softly stroked the giant fur ball in my lap.

*****

            Tomorrow was the day. I was intrigued to see what this year would bring me, but at the same time leaving the Manor was the last thing I wanted to do. Mother had entered into a new phase of her illness. Whatever it was that had snapped in her mind when she killed Father was either healing itself slowly or was irreparable and Mother had taken that final plunge into incoherent madness. She had spent the past few days in her child-like state, which relieved me, as she was much less destructive that way. However, she insisted on spouting her vague assertions as to what my future would be like. Continuously, she would mumble ambiguous statements to me about my future and a mysterious _her_. According to Mother, I was destined for a happy life of wealth and love. Wealth we had, love I could do without. As I recalled, Mother had loved Father with a depth that surprised both of them. Look what happened to that. He nearly destroyed her, she destroyed him, then finished the job he had started on herself. If that is what you get from love, I certainly don't need it. 

            Hermione hadn't replied to my letter. I suppose that was a good thing, as much as I have allowed her to call me friend, I really don't want anything to do with her. She can enjoy her newly perfect life and leave me to wallow in my misery. I have no need of a friend, especially when I see what happened to the last friends I had. 

It really wasn't supposed to be like this. My information was key. Father's unfortunate demise had opened the perfect window of opportunity for us all to get out of this unscathed. I was never one of them; Father raised me and even trained me with the goal of my eventually joining them but ultimately when the final moments came, I was no more a Death Eater than that foolish girl Granger. 

_Think, Draco, think of the lives you'll save. _

D inside and well buried, I must have a hero's heart of gold. What in the world possessed me to risk life and limb to save such a sorry bunch of wizards? I can still hear that voice in my head, that idiot conscience I never thought I had. 

_A world without pain, Draco. You can help build it._

They were all supposed to live. Only the Death Eaters, only their parents were supposed to die. But nothing ever works out perfectly, unless of course, you're the boy wonder Harry Potter. Not only was he alive, he is sitting pretty. Excepting his fool parents, no one he loved or knew had really died. Perfect, lucky little bastard. Of course, no one I loved had died either. I didn't love anyone, not with the foolish depth and breadth of emotion the Golden Trio seemed to. Mother proved to me years ago that love was pain. I had enough pain growing up, thank you. I don't need anymore.

No matter how wonderful it would be to have someone. No matter how warm and soft a woman can be. No matter how good Granger looked in that café

…

What the fuck? Where the bloody hell did that come from? I did not just think that. I did not. I am under a lot of stress. I had too much wine with dinner. I certainly did not just… I am not thinking it again. I refuse. 


	6. Chapter 6

Creep - Chapter 6

            It was warm. Nothing but soft warmth. I rolled closer to the source of the warmth and cuddled close to its softness. A low chuckle rumbled from whatever it was that was so deliciously warm. Arms tightened around me and I sighed with contentment.

            "Wake up, love." A voice murmured seductively into me ear.  

            I sighed with fake annoyance. The promise of what would come when I opened my eyes was worth a little lost sleep. I stretched languidly in those heavenly arms and opened my eyes.

            _Draco?!?_

            I shot up in bed and glanced around my room in alarm. Realization dawned, albeit slowly but I forgave myself as I saw the red lights of my alarm clock cheerily inform me that it was two o'clock in the morning. I just dreamt about Draco Malfoy, the most annoying ferret-faced rat on the planet. Giving myself up to insanity, I struggled out of bed and opened my blinds. I stared up at the star-lit sky and wondered what in the world could have possessed me to dream such inappropriate thoughts about my former enemy and soon-to-be housemate and partner. I had given up on sleep; this interesting turn of sub-conscious musings would prevent any more rest tonight. Instead, I thought back to all the psychology books I had ever read and tried to reason out why I would dream of Draco in that fashion.

            The glowing numbers on my clock had passed four a.m. by the time I came to terms with my situation. Draco, with all his annoying traits had endeared himself to me in two very important ways, especially for someone as young as me. Number one, he was a very good-looking individual. Number two; he was a perfect hero who had shown a more sensitive caring side to me through our secret letters over the summer. To summarize, Draco Malfoy had become a perfect bad-boy with a heart of gold, a redeemable villain and the secret crush of one Hermione Granger.

            "Oh, fuck" I mumbled to myself as the barest glow of sunlight caressed the horizon. "What do I do now?"

            In reply, my alarm clock clicked on and music abruptly poured from it. It startled me, but I still caught the end lyrics to whatever song had been playing on the radio.
    
    The sun reclines… remind me 
    
    The desert skies… remind me 
    
    The ocean wide salted red, 
    
    Reminds me what to do before I'm...
    
    To see you
    
    To touch you 
    
    To feel you 

To tell you

            It was a pity we still could not use magic outside of Hogwarts. I would truly have loved to melt that radio into a puddle of goo.

*****

            I had barely slept. Whenever I would finally fall asleep, my dreams would be plagued by images of a suddenly sexy and irresistible Hermione Granger. It disgusted me how sappy my dreams were and spent the early hours of the morning denying myself rest simply to avoid one more love-drenched fantasy involving that annoying priss. I understood the source of my dreams. Hermione was, after all, the only single women left in the small circle of people I knew. All the eligible Slytherin girls were either on the run from the law or dead. It would make sense that my mind would latch on to whatever pretty piece of flesh was currently available. But why did it have to be _her_??

            Despite the early hour, the sun was nothing more than a soft glow in the distance, I rose from my bed and flicked on my muggle CD player as I made my way towards my private bathroom. The music pounded out, heady and loud enough to shake the foundations of heaven. I gave myself to the anger of the music and drowned out all thoughts of temptation and insanity. The song came to a spoken-word screaming rant and I sang along, only exchanging the word "mommy" for the more appropriate "daddy". I emerged from the bathroom, still unready to face the first day of the last year. I had dressed in funeral black, tonight, after all, would show the rest of the world just how dead Slytherin House really was. I was in mourning for the glory we once were and should always have been if that moron Tom Riddle had not come along and fucked it all up. 

            I half paid attention to the music still pounding from my stereo, as I made sure I was fully packed for school. I had to leave in another hour and a half and still had to have breakfast and give the House Elves their final instructions. The click and whir of the machine as it changed CD's escaped my notice, I was still thinking very hard about not thinking about Hermione. The soft strains of the song brought me out of my thoughts. I felt it was a shame I could not use magic outside of Hogwarts, melting my radio suddenly seemed very appealing. Instead, I stared at the inanimate monster with growing apprehension instead of shutting the blasted thing off like a sane person would have.
    
    This shit right here is for you
    
    All your faces I can see
    
    You all think it's about me
    
    I'm about to break, is this my fate
    
    Am I still damned to a life,
    
    of misery and hate?
    
    You will never know
    
    What I've done for you
    
    What you've all
    
    PUT me through
    
    I'd do it for you
    
    I could have, never lived
    
    If it wasn't, 
    
    For you
    
                   I was finally able to act as the song wound to a close. I leapt across my room and hit the power button. Calling myself ten different kinds of fool, I stepped out of my room and strolled with a casual purpose I did not truly possess towards Mother's room and the small army of House Elves I had taking care of her. One more goodbye and it was off to Hogwarts for another year.
    
    Author's Notes:      Ok, once again, I am making ABSOLUTELY NO PROFIT from this story.
    
                                   Number two; I used two songs in this chapter. The first was "Before I'm Dead" by the Kidney Thieves and the second is "For You" by KoRn. I am not making a profit off of either of these two songs. They are fabulous songs and both KoRn and the Kidney Thieves deserve our patronage!!
    
                                   Thank you all the nice people who reviewed. I SWEAR they will actually talk face-to-face in the next chapter.

                        Please oh please send me reviews!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	7. Chapter 7

Creep – Chapter 7

Author's Notes:            Hullo. It's been quite some time since my last updates. Never fear, I AM working on this story! I'm afraid I was caught up in the summer-school frenzy of nightclasses and working 40hrs a week. No time to write. I have a firm grasp on the situation now, though. So the writing shall commence! (I hope all the nice people who reviewed are not mad at me for my procrastination. But if they are, I deserve it.)

Anti-Litigation Charm: Nothing belongs to me. NOTHING. I make no profit for this. I have no money. Please don't sue!

Platform 9 ¾ was busier than it had ever been. I was amazed at the number of first years adding their excitement and confusion to an otherwise confusing experience. The sheer numbers, no, the _hordes_ of them made me wonder, how many children had been kept back from Hogwarts because their parents secretly feared Voldemort? It didn't matter anymore, really. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and cleared my head of thoughts only to feel a tickle at the back of my neck. Someone was looking at me. I opened my eyes and spun around. I didn't see anyone looking at me, but a familiar face caught my eye.

            "Ron!" I cried out spotting the flaming red of his hair across the sea of first-years. 

            "'Mione!" He called back and waved. I saw Harry beside him and waved at them both. I was a bit sad that we couldn't sit together on the train this year. We had every other year, really. However, being Head Girl had its duties as well as privileges. Draco and myself had a private compartment and a private carriage waiting to take us to Hogwarts. The intention, I suppose, was to discuss plans for the year. We had already been briefed by Headmaster Dumbledore and the rest of the staff as to our duties and obligations, I just needed to speak to Draco about what our plans for the year were to be. I slipped onto the train and made my way to our reserved compartment.  It took so much time, swimming upstream through the first-years. How many of them could there be? I was beginning to wonder if Hogwarts had the room to house all these children. I came to the compartment and struggled with the slide-door. Throwing myself in, I quickly shut it and, with a tiny sigh, leaned my forehead against the cool panel for a moment. 

            "Granger." His cool voice somehow made my heart race. This is foolishness. I tried repeating that to myself a few times and nothing happened. Why can't I have Harry's luck? I turned to observe him. He had changed his hair, it was messy and spiky instead of slicked back. It looked good on him. 

            Bad. Bad thoughts. 

            "Malfoy." I replied in greeting. Luckily, my thoughts fly fast. There was little pause to indicate I was thinking about him or staring at him. Hopefully, I could keep this silly little crush under control.

            "So you made it through the mob unscathed, then?" Draco asked, with little trace of his usual smarminess or sarcasm. Amazingly, his face broke into a genuine smile. It took more will than I knew I had to not double-take at this new Draco before me.

            "Relatively." I responded as I shrugged off my robe. I took a seat across from him. "You?"

            "Hardly." He stood up and turned to show me a long rip in the right side of his robes. "The little monsters never look where they're going and create no end of trouble. If I knew what house the little bastard would be in, I would have taken points away!"

            He wore dark dress clothes underneath his robes. They fit him perfectly and I got a good view of black silk clinging to a muscular chest. Yum. 

Bad thoughts! Damn it all, this has to stop.

It took me a brief moment to process that not only was Draco speaking to me, he had just wound to a spectacular conclusion. It took me a brief moment to scan my mind for what he had just said. _Taken points away_? I burst out laughing. "Draco, that 'little bastard' might get sorted into Slytherin. Whatever would you do then?" I slipped my wand from my pocket and swiftly incanted a repairing charm. The number of times I had done that for Harry or Ron was incalculable; I had become rather adept at them. I watched with satisfaction as the tear in Draco's robe sewed itself together. 

Draco looked down at his robe as it repaired itself. "Um…"

"It starts with a 'T', Draco" I prompted him to thank me. It was so much easier to banter, to exchange mild insults than to think about how good he looked under his robes, or how blue his eyes seemed. I could do this, I just had to keep either of us from shutting up. What an easy task!

"What are you going on about?" Draco affected the old slytherin ferret pose, nose in the air. "Why would I ever have anything to say to someone so low as yourself?"

Wow. He didn't call me a mudblood. He really has changed.

"Fine, if you want to wear torn robes for the entire Welcoming Feast…" I sighed dramatically and reached for my wand again. 

The train chose that moment to lurch into life and Draco was thrown on top of me. 

I couldn't believe the number of first year students. Where had all these children been? When the hell was there a baby boom? I was suddenly glad that being Head Boy made me, essentially, prefect-management. I wouldn't have to patrol the halls that much, or hand-down punishments. Keeping the names of these hordes of children straight would be a miraculous feat. I was tempted, for a brief moment, to admit to all the muggle-borns on the platform that yes, indeed, Draco Malfoy is not completely ignorant of the hated Muggle culture. I was tempted to cast a charm that would part the chaotic mess of first years before me much like Charlton Heston, aka Moses, parted the Red Sea. Despite my weak spot where temptation was concerned, I held back and instead plunged into the fray and waded my way into the train and my private compartment.

Ah, glorious peace. How in the world does Hermione manage to pull off that heroic crap all the time? Simply not doing anything to the increasingly annoying swarm of first-years was the hardest thing I had ever done. Especially to whatever little fool had not watched where he was going and tore my new robe. I flopped into the plush seat of the compartment and leaned back, fingering the long tear running down my side. My eyes drifted shut and I drifted into a sweet dream.

            _The compartment opened and hurriedly shut again. A soft sigh of contentment prompted me to open my eyes. She stood there, leaning against the compartment door, her robe torn open by the fight through the crowd. Her strange muggle clothing clung enticingly to her curves. She turned and a slow, heated smile appeared on her face. "Draco" She half-sighed in greeting as she shrugged off her robe. I couldn't keep my eyes off her hips as they swayed. Within seconds, she was standing right before me. I looked up, but made it no further than her chest. "Hermione" I finally replied, grabbing her waist and propelling her towards me. She moaned in contentment and allowed herself to be manhandled. All too soon, she was straddling me and we were kissing with a ferocious hunger…_

The compartment door opened and hurriedly shut again. I didn't know whether to thank whomever it was that had disturbed my rather pleasant dreams, or strangle them. Being rather hormonally driven at this point, I opt for strangulation. A soft sigh of contentment prompts me to open my eyes. There is no way…

"Granger." I make a point of calling her by her last name. My dreams are a natural reaction to the stress and trauma of the past summer. They are wrong. There is absolutely no way we could ever be together. We could barely stand one another.

"Malfoy" She responded. It's a good sign. We seem to understand one another. Enemies at peace and not the lust-crazy teenagers we seem to be every time I shut my eyes. Dreams don't matter. Dreams don't matter. Repeating that mantra does little to quell my libido. Perhaps Miss Annoying Granger can do the job for me.

            "So you made it through the mob unscathed, then?" I tried to be my usual cruel self, I did. But somehow, not only did that drivel come out but I didn't sound the least bit sarcastic. Her stunned look was amusingly cute. I couldn't help but smile at it… I hope this only happens with Hermione. I would hate to be under par in the Potter/Malfoy war of words. 

"Relatively," She replied and shrugged off her robe before sitting across from me. I nearly swallowed my tongue. Whatever Muggle fashion she was wearing was tight in all the right places and cut low to display a rather impressive… "You?"

Me what? Oh, we were talking, weren't we? I fingered the tear in my robe again and inspiration struck.

"Hardly," I stood up to give her a good view of my robe as well as give myself a good view down her shirt. Merlin, where had she been hiding all that these past few years? I ranted about the foolish first years and my intent to have my vengeance upon them. Or something like that. I really don't know what I'm saying. She looks so good. 

No, no she doesn't. This is wrong.

My rant had come to an end and she responded. I don't know what she said, but she did use a repairing charm to fix my robe. It sewed itself shut and I was at a loss for words. What in the world had we been talking about up until now? Her muggle clothes still distracted me and chasing my thoughts down took effort.

"It starts with a 'T', Draco," She teased. Right. Politeness demands that one thank another for repairing a torn robe. If she can tease me, I can return the favour, at least. We are supposed to be friends now, right?

"What are you going on about?" I asked her, with exaggerated aristocratic snobbery, "Why would I ever have anything to say to someone so low as yourself?"

She was stunned for a moment. What is up with this woman? Can I not tease her back? Finally, a small smile appeared on her face.

"Fine, if you want to wear torn robes for the entire Welcoming Feast…" She sighed dramatically and reached for her wand. 

The train chose that moment to lurch into life. I lost my balance and fell forward onto Hermione.


End file.
